


The Joke's Always On The Joker, Baby

by green_feelings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Night Stands, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_feelings/pseuds/green_feelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all about an anonymous one-night stand that turns Harry and Louis’ lives into a rom-com cliché, provides Liam with the perfect opportunity to finally approach the man of his dreams, and confirms Niall that he’s always right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joke's Always On The Joker, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lllb94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lllb94/gifts).



> Big up to my lovely betas! ♥
> 
> I ended up somehow mixing two of your prompts, but it's mainly the first one, asking for a University AU. I hope you like it, briinboots! 
> 
> [Title from Orson's Broken Watch]

So much for swearing off one-night stands.

Louis tried very hard to think of the arguments he had laid out for Liam earlier today, but it wasn't actually easy recalling them when a fit bloke was kissing him senseless at the same time.

There had been something about not drinking as much, and about starting a serious relationship, not only always making it easy for himself by only having sex with people, but to get involved with someone emotionally.

A change of his current life style.

Which basically consisted of picking up strangers whenever Louis felt an itch, a need. Picking up strangers and letting them kiss him. If they proved to be any good at that, Louis would take them home to scratch that itch.

And this one was a really good kisser. He had beautiful lips, made for sucking dick, and his technique was more than nice. He kissed slowly, tongue swiping against Louis' bottom lip and just brushing in, hinting at how much more it could be. He had great lips, full and plump, pressing and demanding, and at the same time gentle and careful.

Louis wanted to kiss him forever.

He was tall and just built enough that Louis could feel the muscles moving underneath his own fingers, chest broad enough for Louis to sink against it. It felt nice. His wavy hair was held back by a headscarf, lovely corkscrew locks curling above his ears, and they felt silky and soft when Louis gently tugged at them.

Now, if only Louis could remember his name, he maybe had a chance of defending his actions as him trying to find a serious relationship. Unfortunately, Louis couldn't remember the bloke's name to save his life.

Harry? Henry? Maybe Harold. What an old-fashioned name. It didn't really suit the bloke, but then again, it was just a name, and names never mattered for one-night stands.

The music had drowned out their introductions. They had been rather short, anyway. Harold had kept watching Louis -- from the first minute Louis had settled at the bar for a drink, he had noticed Harold looking over repeatedly.

It had taken him three full minutes to approach Louis with two drinks in his hands. Louis had smirked, and at that point he had still been convinced that for once, he wasn’t going to take home anyone. That had been until Harold had introduced himself -- certainly as Harold, and if not that, it had been a pretty similar name -- a smile on his lips that had etched dimples into his cheeks.

There had been no use in pretending to be coy. Louis had felt drawn to the boy from the very first second, so he had set down his drink and had done what both of them had had in mind from the second their gazes had locked. He had kissed Harold, pulling him close, chests sliding together, Harold's hands coming to rest on Louis' hips.

That's how he had ended up here, with a stranger in his arms, kissing him senseless and using every one of his dirty moves on that boy to get his sole intention across.

Which was that he wanted to fuck said boy. Simple as that.

Louis noticed the song changing, and with that the guy's -- Harold's -- hips started moving in a different beat too. Opening his eyes, Louis stopped moving, holding on to steady himself. When Harold's eyes fluttered open, the green was glassy and dark with lust.

Oh, yes, this wouldn't end with Louis going home alone. Screw that damn new life style. He could still start living a new life tomorrow. Tonight, Louis was going to have one last one-night stand.

"Toilets?" Louis asked, just loud enough to be heard over the loud music in the club.

Harold nodded, licking his lips. They were red, looking obscene in the dark light of the club. His eyes were half-lidded, and he was obviously more than tipsy, but he still seemed aware of what he was doing. His hands held on firmly to Louis' waist, hips swaying in rhythm with the music.

Louis turned, gripping Harold's hand tightly. He made his way through the crowd, tugging Harold along and feeling him close against Louis' back. His warmth spilled over, right into Louis' skin, leaving him restless and needy.

Once they were in the toilets and the door fell shut behind them, the music was drowned out, reduced to a dull beat bouncing off the walls. Louis shoved Harold into one of the cubicles, yelping in surprise when he found himself pressed against the tiles within seconds.

Harold pressed in, his crotch circling against Louis', lips meeting in a hungry kiss. Before Louis could even voice a single thought, Harold dropped to his knees and shoved Louis' t-shirt up his stomach.

Staring, Louis licked his lips, watched that perfect, beautiful boy unzip Louis' jeans, pull out Louis' dick with one hand and marvel at the sight in front of him. As if he had never seen a cock in his life. Louis was about to say something, make a teasing comment, but then Harold looked up, his eyes big and shining bright in the artificial light of the filthy toilet cubicle.

"Can I?" he asked, his lips wet and swollen.

What else did he think Louis had had in mind when he had dragged him in here?

"Hope so," Louis answered, lifting a hand to run his thumb over Harold's shiny bottom lip. He smiled slightly at how innocent the boy looked, although every aspect of the situation was anything but. "I didn't bring you here for nothing."

Smirking, Harold darted his tongue out, licking Louis' thumb before he slid his fingers beneath the fabric of Louis' boxer shorts and pulled them all the way down to Louis' knees. Within the fraction of a second, he had his mouth on Louis' cock, lips closing around the head, tongue teasing the slit and dipping in and out.

Louis tilted his head back, closing his eyes and fisted his hand in the mess of dark curls. He let go of a deep moan when Harold sank lower, taking him in slowly until his nose brushed Louis' skin.

Yes, Louis would definitely take this one home, for one last, glorious one-night stand.

~*~

Harry was woken by a gentle caress against his arm. It felt like silk sliding along his skin, so he blinked his eyes open, frowning into the dull morning light.

A grey cat was sitting in front of him, patiently rubbing its head against Harry's arm that was dangling off the bed. He lifted his hand to pet the cat while taking in his surroundings. The room was stuffed -- a table with trophies and strange action figures, bottles in a corner and books piled so high Harry could only see the top two rows of the shelf behind them. Clothes lay discarded on the floor, and he spotted his own amongst them. There was a poster on the door, a dog dressed in a black suit, wearing a hat and sunglasses, smoking a cigar and showing a set of cards. A royal flush.

Confused, Harry lifted his head and turned around. As he had expected, there was a guy next to him. The handsome boy with the really stunning body and amazing blue eyes he had picked up at the club last night.

The sex had been good -- too good for a one-night stand. That boy had instinctively found out all of Harry's weak spots, had driven Harry over the edge with only his mouth and hands more than once. Shifting slightly, Harry bit his lip at the slight burn, the stretch of his muscles making the movement just slightly uncomfortable.

Of course he remembered -- he hadn't been _that_ drunk. But if he hadn't been able to remember, the pleasant ache would have been enough of a reminder.

What a shame Harry hadn't managed to catch his name. Their introductions had been too short, and drowned out by the loud music. Before he could have asked again, the bloke had already been kissing him. And Harry had really not wanted to ruin that.

He shouldn't have stayed. Just yesterday, he had promised Zayn that he would stop making every fling into something serious. No more pining after cute boys who had taken Harry home for just the night.

This one was a good one to start. Harry didn't even know his name, so it would be easy to forget about him and treat this as what it was -- a one-night stand.

For a moment, Harry watched the pretty boy in front of him. He was breathing evenly, lashes fanning out against his sculpted cheekbones and his hair dishevelled. Licking his lips, Harry turned around again, trying not to get attached to the picture.

Quietly, he slid out of the bed and picked up his clothes. He put on his t-shirt in a rush, finding that it was still inside-out, but decided that it didn't matter. Once he had zipped up his jeans, he found his shoes near the desk. If he got a bit closer, Harry was sure he would be able to read a name on one of the trophies.

The cat kept watching him with curious eyes, and Harry kept looking back at her. Maybe it would be better if Harry was left in the dark about the pretty boy with the stunning blue eyes. Or else Harry would be tempted to make him breakfast and ask for more than he should.

When he opened the door to sneak out of the room, he turned once more, finding the boy moving closer to the warm spot Harry had left. The sheets were pooling around his waist, revealing soft skin that looked like caramel in the morning light.

The cat jumped onto the bed, taking Harry's place. Harry smiled, blowing her a kiss before he closed the door behind himself and made his way out of the flat.

~*~

"You're caught!"

Harry rolled his eyes and closed the door, dropping the keys into the bowl he had made in his first semester. Taking off his boots, he yelled back, "How exactly?"

"I know you wanted to sneak into your room and pretend later that you’ve been here all night." Niall appeared in the door frame to their kitchen, a mug in his hands.

"I didn't," Harry answered, staying by the door. He felt dirty and sticky with lube smeared between his thighs, and his own come still on his stomach. Niall would certainly smell it if he came closer. "Just wanted to go back to bed."

Niall lifted a brow, leaning against the frame. "Maybe you would like to take a shower first. I smelled you before I heard you, mate."

"Fuck you," Harry chuntered and rushed past him to get to his room.

Without another word, Niall followed and kept standing in the doorframe, watching Harry undress.

"Woah, that one went to town on you," he finally commented when Harry threw his t-shirt into his laundry basket.

"Could we just leave it?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes again.

"Just saying, mate." Niall shrugged, sipping his tea. "We'll have him over for dinner in a few days, anyway, won't we?"

Harry pulled his jeans off. "Why would he be over for dinner?"

"Because you always end up dating the guys you pick up for one-night stands."

Briefly, Harry caught a glimpse of his body in the mirror. He had scratches on his back and a few bruises littered over his neck and shoulder blades. Leaving his boxer shorts on, he turned away to get to the bathroom.

"That implies I never actually have one-night stands," Harry argued.

"You like to think you do," Niall informed him, following Harry. "But you don't have one-night stands."

"I don't even know this one's name, so you’d better not expect him for dinner." Harry turned to Niall, crossing his arms.

"But I bet you have his number saved under 'Really Good Fuck, Potential Boyfriend Material', don't you?" Niall asked, grinning into his mug.

"Nope," Harry answered dryly. "Not even his number."

Niall furrowed his brows and gasped. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry declared, shrugging. "I had a one-night stand with a complete stranger, Ni. I guess you know the concept."

"Wouldn't," Niall argued. "I'm an innocent boy, Styles."

"As if," Harry snorted, deciding to brush his teeth first, as it didn't look like Niall would leave him alone anytime soon. He opened the mirrored cupboard over the sink and got his toothbrush. "You have more one-night stands than me and Zayn combined."

"I'm pretty sure Zayn hasn't shagged anyone in a year," Niall commented. "So he doesn't really count."

Harry rolled his eyes, talking around his toothbrush. "He's a living Art student cliché."

"You’re one to talk." Niall raised his brows.

"I have a social life, at least," Harry argued. "Did Zayn even come home last night?"

"For a change, yeah," Niall mumbled. "He's in his bed."

Harry hummed. "I could make pancakes for breakfast."

Beaming, Niall perked up. "Would you?"

"You gotta wake up Zaynie, then." Harry shrugged.

Niall sighed. "I guess it's worth it."

Grinning, Harry ushered him out of the bathroom. "Give me ten minutes to shower and you'll get your pancakes before eleven."

"Ten minutes, Styles." Niall turned once more, pointing at Harry. "And don't think I forgot about our earlier discussion. I'll find out if that bloke was more than a one-night stand."

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Told you, I don't even know his name. Now, get out of here."

He shut the door behind Niall and let go of a relieved sigh. Silence settled around him, and Harry closed his eyes for a moment, taking it in. When he turned on the shower and stepped beneath the warm spray, he felt a ghost touch on his skin, firm hands, gentle fingers and burning lips.

Instinctively, Harry brushed his own fingers over the bruises on his hips as he washed away the traces of sex between his thighs. The skin felt raw and sensitive, his own touch sending a shiver through his body, remembering every touch and kiss of last night.

The image of the boy's eyes flashed in front of Harry's eyes for a second. Clear blue staring right into Harry's eyes, bright and endless. It changed to the image of this morning. Tanned skin, long lashes, a peaceful expression. Lips that practically begged to be kissed. All of that dipped into a soft morning light.

It was a shame Harry couldn't even remember his name.

~*~

"Lou," Liam yelled, pulling Louis out of his slumber in a very harsh manner. "The fuck?"

Louis groaned, and refused to open his eyes. This was probably Liam losing his patience because there was yet another boy in their kitchen, bathroom, living room or maybe still in Louis' bed, even though Louis had promised he would stop bringing home one-night stands.

"What’s Umbridge doing in your bed?" Liam's voice was closer now. "We agreed that she's not allowed on the beds."

Opening his eyes, Louis found that he was alone in his bed -- except for Professor Umbridge, their cat, who had stretched out right next to Louis.

"It's my bed," Louis argued, patting the grey cat's back. She lay where a certain curly-headed stranger should have been. "And it's Professor Umbridge to you."

"Shut up," Liam mumbled. "It's a cat."

"A very nasty one," Louis added. “She’ll put you in detention for being so impolite.”

"Anyway." Liam crossed his arms. "Why are you still in bed?"

Only now, Louis noticed that Liam was dressed in his football strip. Which could only mean one thing.

"Training starts in twenty, so get your arse out of bed, Tommo," Liam ordered, turning around. "I'm leaving in five. If you're not ready, you can jog to the pitch."

Whining, Louis rolled out of bed. He knocked over empty beer bottles and frowned at them for a second. Those hadn't been there yesterday, had they? Had he been drinking with the pretty guy--- what was his name again? Harold?

No wonder Louis couldn't remember much of what had happened. The used condom next to the bottles, however, implied that Louis had fucked lovely Harold.

If that even was his name.

"Get going, Tommo!" Liam yelled. "I don't hear the shower yet!"

"Fuck you, Liam," Louis yelled back. "I'm having a bit of a hangover here."

"Water and painkillers are on the table in the kitchen." Liam appeared back in the doorframe to Louis' room. "How bad is the blackout? Is there anything you remember from yesterday?"

Louis opened the door to his bathroom, not bothering about being naked in front of Liam. "I didn't forget anything."

"Then you perhaps remember how you vowed to change your life and stop having quite as many one-night stands?"

Louis hopped under the shower, the cold spray making him shiver. "It was just one last time. He was really cute."

Liam snorted, leaning against the wall by the sink. "If he were that cute, you could have taken the time to properly get to know him before fucking him, you know."

"I didn't--"

"What's his name, Louis?" Liam interrupted him.

"Harold," Louis answered, pretty sure that it wasn't the boy's name.

"Okay," Liam gave. "What's his major?"

Louis hesitated for only a second. "Law?"

"I knew it." Liam held out a towel for Louis, looking unimpressed. "Did you make up the name, too? Because, honestly? No one's called Harold."

Louis sighed. "I'm forty percent sure his name's Harold. Maybe Henry."

"Do you know anything at all about the boy you spent the night with?"

Towelling off his hair, Louis shrugged. "He's got amazing lips. Like, good kisser, really good kisser. A mouth definitely made for blowjobs."

Liam looked at him for another moment, then turned, going back into Louis' room. Louis saw him pick up Professor Umbridge when he followed Liam, slinging the towel around his waist.

"You're jogging to the pitch," Liam told him, tone cool. "See you later."

Louis knew there was no use in arguing -- Liam wouldn't let him. He was the captain after all, and Louis knew that if he got Liam to give in and give him a lift to the footie pitch, he'd make Louis run laps there.

So instead of arguing with Liam, Louis picked up his strip, putting it on and trying to be as quick as possible. When he slid on one of his trainers, he frowned, pulling it off again before turning it upside down.

A ring fell out of it, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Louis picked it up with a frown, wondering where it came from. It was big and chunky, shiny silver, an anchor engraved on its front.

It most likely belonged to the boy with the pretty green eyes and lovely lips. Louis would give it back, but there wasn't a chance of that, was there? Carefully, he put it on his bedside table, getting back to putting on his trainers.

Leaving his room, still tying one shoe, Louis hopped into the kitchen on one leg. Leigh-Anne was sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping her coffee.

"Is Liam making you jog to your training again?" she asked in lieu of an actual greeting.

Louis swallowed two of the painkillers and downed them with the glass of water. "He likes to bully me."

"I think you just lack discipline," she argued, still not looking up from the paper.

"You're both just jealous because I had sex," Louis chirped before he turned and dashed out of their flat to make it in time for their training session.

~*~

"What a waste," Niall huffed out, handing Zayn a note.

Zayn grinned and shoved it into his pocket, greeting Harry with a wave of his hand.

They had agreed to meet up in the nearby park after uni, and Harry was running only slightly late.

"What is going on here?" he asked with a frown.

"Two weeks over," Niall said, expression grumpy. "Lost ten quid, because your last one-night stand didn't become your next boyfriend."

Shaking his head, Harry decided against commenting on that. He couldn't really focus on it anyway.

"How did it go?" Zayn asked quietly, probably already suspecting the outcome.

Harry sighed, dropping down on the empty bench and tilting his head back. A light breeze messed up his hair, made it fall into his face and tickle his cheeks. Maybe he should cut it soon, see if Louise had any open slots next week.

"Stop being so miserable, Haz," Niall said, sitting down next to Harry.

"I have no idea what to do," Harry admitted, folding his hands. Opening his eyes, Harry stared into the cloudy sky above him, a mix of grey and white, dull and faded.

The meeting with his professor hadn't gone too well. He hadn't produced nearly enough new stuff to show and talk about to satisfy her. She had been rather sceptical about Harry's new concept, had questioned every of his objects.

He should have probably gone about it like Zayn. He always did the right thing. Practically living in the studio had ensured that his meeting with their professor had gone brilliantly. He had received a lot of praise for his paintings. Maybe Harry should just start painting, too, instead of getting stuck with glass.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad. She knows what you're capable of." Zayn patted his shoulder, standing next to Harry.

He had been working with ceramics for almost two years, and for the past months it had driven him to try out glass. It was interesting, but Harry just didn't seem to get a proper hang of it.

"I just can't do it at the moment. Whatever I'm capable of, Zayn, I can't do it."

Sighing, he leaned forwards and put his elbows on his knees, hanging his head low.

Before he could wallow in his own misery any more, he spotted a phone between his feet. Frowning, he picked it up and turned it over a few times, and then lifted his head to check his surroundings. There was no one around in the small park, though. It was only the three of them.

"There's a phone," Harry announced, holding it up on his palm.

Niall leaned closer. "Someone must have lost it."

Fiddling with the phone a bit, Harry found the button that lit up the display, bringing it to life. "It's locked," he said. "I guess I have to type in a pin code to unlock it."

"And now?" Zayn asked.

If someone had lost it here, it was very likely that the person lived close. It was mostly people from the area coming to the park to walk their dogs, or go for a run, or simply to sit on a bench and take in the green.

"I guess we'll keep it," Harry suggested, shrugging.

"Whoever lost it will eventually call," Niall agreed.

Harry slid it into the pocket of his jeans and got up from the bench. "Should we go for tea?"

The others nodded, and they walked off with Harry in their middle. Niall chatted about his day, and Harry was grateful for the distraction. He didn’t want to think about his stupid artwork any more.

On their way out of the park, Harry asked every person they came across if they were missing a mobile, but no one did.

He ended up taking it home where he charged it and left it on the kitchen table, in case someone was going to call.

~*~

"Leigh, have you seen my phone?" Louis asked, coming into her room.

She looked up from where she was crouched down on the floor, Jade next to her. They were rarely home, both of them spending a big amount of time at their boyfriends' places.

"No," Leigh answered, frowning.

"Have only been home for ten minutes, mate," Jade answered.

Louis sighed. "Okay, thanks." He turned and left the room again, closing the door.

"Liam, can you call my phone? I must have put it somewhere in the flat," he asked when he came into their kitchen. Louis pouted, annoyed from the search.

"Sure," Liam answered, getting out his mobile. It took a few seconds, then Louis could hear the ringing coming from Liam's mobile, but none from anywhere in the flat.

"God, it's on mute," Louis groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Hello?" A voice suddenly came from Liam's phone.

Liam startled, jumping in his chair before he quickly moved his mobile to his ear. "Hello?"

Louis watched him with curious eyes, wondering why a stranger had picked up his phone. He had still had it when he had come home from uni, Louis could remember that.

"In the park?" Liam asked now. He was quiet for another moment. "That's very kind of you. Thanks. Yeah, I'll come and pick it up, of course." He threw Louis a look that clearly said _You are going to pick it up_.

Liam thanked the person on the phone again and Louis waited until he hung up, then he blurted out, "what kind of thief answers after he steals a phone?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "You lost it in the park, dumbhead."

"I didn't," Louis protested. "I never even was..." His protest faded out.

"Been for a run today?" Liam asked, arching a brow.

"I gotta keep fit," Louis pointed out. "Studying sports."

Liam got up, putting his plate into the sink. "I know that, Louis."

"Maybe it was still in my pocket?"

"Obviously," Liam said.

Sighing, Louis gave in. "Yeah, okay. I lost it when I went for a run."

"You're lucky that nice bloke didn't sell it or anything," Liam reminded him. "You're meeting him tomorrow after lunch in front of the library."

"After lunch?" Louis asked, frowning. "I can't, Li. I have that lecture across town."

Liam turned to him, crossing his arms. "Fuck, I forgot about that."

"Call him and make a new date," Louis suggested. "I'll meet him earlier."

"He said he's only free after lunch for a few minutes." Liam shook his head and then sighed. "So I'll go."

"You would?" Louis asked, trying to suppress the hopeful tone in his voice.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I love you, Li," Louis told him, going for a hug.

Liam patted his back, but Louis noticed how he leaned into the embrace. Liam loved being hugged. "It's okay. No big deal."

~*~

Harry checked his watch once more, frowning a little when he saw it was already half past two. He had been a little early, hoping that the guy who had lost his phone would show up early, too.

No such luck, though. Harry would have to hurry to get to his photography workshop in time.

"Sorry?" Someone approached him.

Harry looked up, automatically smiling at the boy in front of him. He had short hair and was very well built. "Hi."

The guy stared at him for several seconds, and Harry started to get uncomfortable under his gaze.

"You're Harry, aren't you?"

Harry frowned. They hadn't exchanged names, as far as he could remember. "Um..."

"I mean, you--" The boy blushed, gesturing with his hands. "You live with Zayn."

"Oh, yeah, that's true," Harry answered. "Do you know him?"

"No."

Something about that boy was very strange, and Harry instinctively took a step back. "Well..."

"I mean, not very well," the guy amended. "Sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm Liam," he added and extended his hand. That was the name that had flashed on the phone's display last night, too.

Harry slowly took his hand. "Yeah, well. Harry, as you already know."

Liam nodded. "I'm here because of the phone."

"Ah, yes," Harry said, fishing it out of his bag. "I charged it."

"Thanks," Liam mumbled, taking it from Harry. He looked very torn. "Really, thank you."

"Don't lose it again," Harry told him, winking.

"It's not mine, actually," Liam corrected. "It's my friend's."

Harry nodded. "Well, anyway, I guess I gotta..." He gestured behind himself.

"Yeah, okay, sure." Liam slid the phone into his rucksack. "Thanks again."

"No problem, mate." Harry waved shortly before he turned.

He had almost made it to the door when Liam caught up on him, gripping his arm. "Harry."

Slightly confused, Harry turned back around. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Liam bit his bottom lip. "Actually. Yes, there is."

Harry rested his weight on one leg, looking at Liam and waiting for him to go on.

"About Zayn---" Liam stopped himself, blushing again. "I mean. You live with him, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. We're friends."

"Don't think I'm creepy," Liam pleaded, running a hand through his hair. "But I've kinda been into him for a while now?"

"Didn't you say you don't really know him?" Harry frowned.

"I met him once at an exhibition of a friend," Liam told him. "And we talked for a while. But I never asked for his number. I don't know how to approach him, to be honest."

"Well, you seem to know where he lives," Harry noticed.

"I may have researched a bit?"

Harry lifted a brow. That didn't sound exactly like "research", but then again, Liam didn't really seem very scary or harmful. He looked like a big puppy.

Liam's fingers curled a bit tighter around Harry's wrist. "Please? What are the chances of this happening? You finding the phone and me coming to pick it up instead of my friend? This is a _sign_."

That hit home. The idea of assisting a destined love was tempting. Liam’s words did hold some truth, after all -- them meeting like this couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe it was Harry’s fate to help them meet and fall in love. Also, why shouldn't Harry help out Zayn a bit? He could definitely use a distraction from his art, from living in his studio and neglecting all social contacts except for Niall and Harry.

"Okay," Harry heard himself answer. "I guess I could help you guys get to know each other at least."

Liam beamed. "Really?"

"This is really strange, but, yeah, maybe we were meant to meet." Harry shrugged. He opened his bag and pulled out a little notebook and a pen. Hastily, he scribbled down his number and ripped out the page. "Text me, yeah? I gotta hurry now, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Liam breathed, looking at the paper in his hands as though it was holy.

"Talk to you later," Harry just said and turned, waving at Liam once more.

Maybe this was completely ridiculous, and maybe Zayn would have his head if Liam proved to be a creepy weirdo after all. But helping out in love matters couldn't ever be wrong, could it?

Harry didn't think it could.

~*~

Louis looked up from his book when Liam stormed into his room without even having the decency to knock. He was about to comment on it, but before Louis could even open his mouth, Liam had already framed his face, planting a big, sloppy kiss on Louis' lips.

"Thank you for losing your phone," Liam announced the second he drew back. "Thank you for making me go pick it up."

Louis frowned, staring up at Liam. "Okay?"

"It's fate, Lou," Liam told him with awe in his tone. "It's destiny, all the stars aligning perfectly for that one single moment. That boy is the answer to every single one of my prayers."

With a swirl, an actual swag in his step, Liam turned and dashed out of the room again.

Louis blinked his eyes in confusion, looking over at Professor Umbridge curled up on his bed, slowly blinking back at him.

"He's gone mad," Louis deadpanned. "Absolutely mad."

~*~

Whatever had happened, it had changed Liam. Not for the worse, or in any significant way. But enough for Louis to notice.

He was just that tad bit more motivated for his gym sessions and just that tiny bit more chipper during football training. He didn't make them run extra laps for slacking off during training and at home he was always in a good mood.

He didn't even complain about Professor Umbridge. And Liam _always_ found a reason to complain about her.

Kicking his ball against the wall where kids had drawn a goal with chalk, Louis shook his head and smiled to himself.

Apparently, the boy who had found Louis' phone the other day had turned out to be the love of Liam's life. Or something close enough to that, anyway. Liam kept babbling on about how lucky he was to have met him, that with him everything would finally turn out the way he had always wanted.

Louis was glad he was able to assist to that in some way. Seeing Liam happy, made him happy too.

He ran after the ball when it hit the wall in an odd angle, so focused on it that he only noticed the other person when he stopped the ball with one foot. Louis looked up and was about to say something, but then he recognised the face.

In front of him stood Harold -- or whatever his name was. His hair was loose this time around, a beautiful mess of waves and curls framing his pretty face, and he looked just as surprised as Louis. In the light of the setting sun, his skin looked a bit darker than it actually was, his eyes reflecting the gold, making them seem a slightly more intense green.

"Hi," Louis said slowly.

Harold smiled, kicking the ball back to Louis. "Hi."

"I, um..." Louis picked up the ball, gesturing at the wall. It was a pretty remote area of the park, lined with trees that didn't leave much space for benches or a meadow. "I didn't think anyone else would come here."

Taking a step forwards into the long shadow of one of the trees, Harold held up a book. "I come here to make sketches and, like, think."

Louis watched him for a moment longer, took in the long legs and the chequered shirt that was unbuttoned to Harold's navel. Louis knew there were more tattoos than the few visible right now. He could remember tracing them with his fingertips, biting down on particularly pretty laurels.

"I can go," Louis offered. "Leave you to your thoughts."

Harold shook his head and pointed at the log of the tree next to him. "I'll just sit here, if it's fine with you?"

Louis nodded immediately. "Sure, go ahead. I'll keep... practising."

When Harold sat down by the tree, Louis turned and kept kicking the ball, the setting sun warm on his back. He tried to focus on his ball and not look over at the boy whose name he didn't know, but whose every inch of skin he had touched and explored with his fingers and lips.

God, this was awkward.

Louis couldn't exactly ask for his name now, could he? And what was he supposed to say at all? Was he supposed to say anything? He had slept with the boy, after all. It wouldn't be right to act like it had never happened, would it?

"You're really good," Harold said before Louis could come up with an answer to even one of the questions flooding his mind.

Turning, Louis stopped the ball and shrugged. "I'm studying sports."

Harold nodded, a pen resting over a page in his book. "I suspected as much."

Louis blinked.

"Good stamina," Harold added, a grin playing around his lips. "And, well..." He gestured at Louis' body. "I guess I mentioned it once or twice that you're really fit."

Louis laughed a little. So they wouldn't pretend it never happened. It was actually a relief, making things a lot easier. "I didn't take you for the artsy type, to be honest."

Harold shrugged, crossing his legs. "It's my major."

Louis stopped the ball, giving Harold a long look. "You're not drawing me there, are you?"

"Don't let it go to your head, love," Harold told him off, shaking his head again. "I can't even draw."

"What?" Louis frowned and decided that he couldn't concentrate on both, so he left the ball where it was and sat down across from Harold. "How do you study Art if you can't draw?"

"You don't have to be able to draw," Harold corrected, tapping his pen against the paper. "I do draw, but it's nothing that people would find pretty. If you asked me to draw a portrait of you, it wouldn't look like you at all."

"So what do you do, then?" Louis wanted to know.

"I'm more of a three-dimensional type. I like working with my hands." Harold shrugged. "Wood, metal, ceramics, glass. I'm good with my hands."

Louis smirked. "Really good."

Harold laughed, unabashed and open. Louis decided that he liked it, that he wanted to see it more often. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, the grin on his face growing wider.

"I'm setting up a friend," he explained to Louis while he typed out a quick message. "I met this guy who is head over heels for him, and now I'm kinda helping make them meet."

Louis smiled. "Sounds like you're a proper Cupid."

Harold was still grinning. "He fell in love at first sight, apparently, and my friend really could need someone to pull him out of his shell. He's pretty withdrawn."

"Sounds like an odd couple." Louis checked his watch, finding that he had to hurry.

"I think they'd make a good one."

"Well, good luck with that," Louis said, getting back to his feet. The sun had almost dipped behind the trees now, only a few rays coming through. "I need to leave now. One of my flatmates cooked dinner today, and I promised her I'd be home in time."

"It was nice seeing you," Harold admitted, smiling gently. "Maybe I'll meet you again here."

Louis nodded, picking up his ball. "Yeah, maybe. That'd be nice."

With a wave, Harold turned his attention back to his book, the pen already moving again. Louis couldn't help himself from turning more than once when he walked away.

Harold didn't seem to gaze after him at all.

~*~

Harry looked at the sketch in his book, pursing his lips at the memory. He ran his finger over the quick drawing he had made yesterday, hasty lines trying to capture a motion. Harry had tried telling himself it was only the motions he had been interested in.

 _Pretty Blue Eyes_ , it said at the bottom, a date and his signature attached. What a shame Harry couldn't remember his name. Asking would have been weird, although Harry had almost done it.

It just felt even weirder not knowing the name of a guy he had slept with. It hadn't been so weird when he had only been a one-night stand, but now that Harry had somehow met him again, he wasn't just that anymore. They had talked, and he had been funny, and he had been stunning -- incredibly stunning in the light of the sunset.

"Sorry!"

Harry looked up, quickly closing the book and putting it away. He smiled at Liam who slid into the chair across from him, folding his hands on the table.

"I'm a bit late. Training," he explained, shrugging.

"No problem," Harry reassured him. "What kind of training?"

"I'm the captain of the uni's football team." Liam beamed, looking very proud.

Harry thought of Pretty Blue Eyes, and wondered if he played for any team. He certainly was good enough to. "Are you studying sports?" he asked, banning the thoughts from his mind.

Liam shook his head. "No, I'm in economics. Sport is just a hobby."

Harry hummed, looking up when a waitress came to their table to take their orders. He watched Liam when he made his, noticed a birthmark on his neck, and that Liam's eyes were gentle and kind when he talked to the girl.

"So," Harry said when the waitress was gone and they were alone again. "This is actually pretty weird. I feel like I'm checking out a potential boyfriend for my little sister."

Liam laughed. "He's older than you, though, isn't he?"

"I find it a bit scary that you know these things."

The laughter died, and Liam looked caught, even a bit apologetic. He shrugged. "Facebook just makes it easy to find out things, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Harry admitted.

"I'm not crazy, I promise," Liam assured him, folding his hands on the table. "You know Zayn, don't you? You can understand why I have a crush on him, right?"

Harry thought of Zayn covered in stains of oil paint, of how he tended to have a cigarette stuck between his lips when he needed to think. He recalled how Zayn had fallen asleep curled up next to Harry in his bed a few weeks ago when his own artwork had driven him mad, not working out the way he had imagined it. When Niall had brought a fish back home from a fishing trip with friends and Harry had prepared it, Zayn had sat at their kitchen table looking sceptical. He had mourned the poor fish, and its short life that had ended in one of Harry’s pans.

Of course Harry could understand that.

"He's gorgeous," Liam added after a second.

Harry raised a brow. "While I agree that he's pretty--"

"He's not just that," Liam cut him short. "I know that. I've seen his artworks, and although I only talked to him for a bit, I know that he is really clever, and nice."

"Zayn could use someone properly appreciating him," Harry pointed out. "He's not had a boyfriend in ages."

"I really don't get why." Liam furrowed his brows, shaking his head.

Harry smiled. "Who knows."

"Look, I thought, maybe you guys would like to come to my next game?" Liam suggested.

"Zayn's not really into football," Harry pointed out, leaning back in his chair when the waitress brought their drinks.

"I thought not," Liam admitted. "But can't you, like, make him come? I'm sure if he sees me at something I'm good at, it'll make him notice me."

Harry frowned, leaning in again. "Just exactly what did you try already to get him to notice you?"

Blushing, Liam shrugged, swirling the straw in his drink. "I may have gone to a few exhibitions. But whenever I tried talk to him, he kinda got distracted or said he had to go."

Harry snorted out a laugh. "He probably didn't get what you were talking about in the first place. He likes making art, but Zayn hates talking about it."

"Oh," Liam answered. "What does he like, then?"

Sipping his iced tea, Harry thought about that for a moment. "Films. He likes watching films and playing video games. He likes talking about books, or, well, stories in general. And sleep. Zayn really likes to sleep."

Liam looked a little surprised, and Harry giggled.

"I don't read," Liam finally said.

Harry sighed. "Doesn't mean you guys can't work out." He shrugged, winking at Liam. "I like you. It's worth a try at least."

Liam nodded enthusiastically. "So, you'll come to the game?"

"We'll bring Niall, too. If Niall's on board, he will want to come."

"I thought you could introduce us? Come down after the game to talk to me, and then introduce me to him?" Liam looked hopeful.

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"Maybe he'll even remember me."

Yes, Harry decided, he really liked Liam. He seemed like a sweet guy and he had the biggest crush on Zayn. Maybe it wouldn't play out at all. Maybe Liam would find that Zayn was nothing like he imagined, and maybe Zayn wouldn't like Liam once he got to know him.

In Harry's head, though, they made a pretty fine couple.

"If you really tried to talk to him about art," Harry pointed out, "he definitely will."

~*~

"I was afraid you probably decided to avoid me."

Harry looked up when he heard the voice. He spotted Pretty Blue Eyes at the top of the stairs that led to the corner of the park they had met a few weeks ago. Whenever Harry had come back, he hadn't shown up.

"I actually thought the same about you," Harry told him, putting his sketch book aside.

"Well, it's good then that we just missed each other, apparently, isn't it?" Pretty Blue Eyes set his ball down, tapping it with one foot. "How have you been?"

Harry smiled. "Good, I guess. Not quite on my top game in art, but I guess I'm getting there."

"What are you working on, then?"

"Glass," Harry told him. "I'm working with glass, and nothing's really working out how I want it to."

"Does it ever?" Pretty Blue Eyes asked. "I mean, every artist I ever met says that whatever material they work with doesn't behave like they want it to."

Harry laughed at that. He did have a point. "I think it's down to how things never turn out the way you planned or imagined."

"It's nice, though, isn't it?" He shrugged, giving Harry a warm smile. "It'd be a boring process if everything were predictable."

"True," Harry agreed.

"Can I see what you're drawing in there today?" Pretty Blue Eyes asked, pointing at the sketchbook next to Harry.

"In exchange for a trick," Harry negotiated, pointing at the ball.

He really wanted to know the boy's name. It was fine calling him Pretty Blue Eyes in his head, but Harry would prefer to call him by his name. Asking now, though, was way too late.

"Deal," Pretty Blue Eyes answered, beckoning Harry closer with a gesture of his hand.

Harry got up and stopped the ball with his foot as Pretty Blue Eyes kicked it over to him. He threw the boy a questioning look, tilting his head.

Pretty Blue Eyes pointed at the drawn-on goal at the wall. "Approach the goal."

Harry set off -- and within a second, the ball was gone. He turned and saw Pretty Blue Eyes dribble it on his knee, grinning widely at Harry.

"How did you do that?"

"You basically just have to be fast." Pretty Blue eyes kicked the ball back to Harry. "Come here, I'll show you how it's done."

Harry walked over, and watched him show how he did the trick with a combination of tricks. Pretty Blue Eyes mumbled some instructions while doing so, and Harry glanced up from his feet to his face, seeing the pleased expression, the content smile.

Suddenly, Harry remembered very vividly what it had been like to kiss him. Soft lips moving with an aim, pressing against Harry's, slick slides of their tongues.

"You wanna try it out now?"

Harry blinked, looking back at their feet. "Um, yeah."

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Pretty Blue Eyes kept the ball at his feet and Harry approached him, trying to sneak the ball. Instead of nonchalantly fetching the ball away, though, he stumbled over his own feet and fell forwards.

Pretty Blue Eyes caught him, hands firmly gripping onto Harry's arms, his fingers digging into the flesh, their chests colliding. Harry blinked, staring into those eyes, very close now, as close as they had only been once, when they had been kissing in a dark night club.

It would have been easy to lean in and kiss him again -- but Harry didn't even know his name. At this point he knew too many other things about the boy with strong hands and clear eyes. He wasn't just that anymore. Harry knew that he played football, and that he knew a few things about art, he hadn't worn socks at any of their meetings, and his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

He wasn't just anybody with a nice body and a pretty face anymore. And yet, Harry didn't even know his name, didn't know him at all.

A kiss would be so wrong.

"A bit clumsy, aren't we?" Pretty Blue Eyes asked, grinning.

Harry shrugged, drawing back. "Sorry."

"No need to be, love." He let go of Harry and jogged over to the ball that had rolled away. "You wanna try again?"

"I guess I'd just like to see a few more tricks." Harry ran a hand through his hair until he noticed that he had tied it back earlier and messed it all up now. Carefully, he removed the headband to adjust it anew.

Pretty Blue Eyes seemed fixed on that, watching Harry's hands. "Well, I guess, I get to see one of those sketches first."

"A deal's a deal," Harry agreed, picking up his sketchbook, skipping through the pages and then holding out one page.

"Hm," Pretty Blue Eyes hummed, looking at the drawing, a mix of different colours flowing over and into each other, broken up by hard black lines.

"Glass," Harry reminded him.

Pretty Blue Eyes looked up, living up to his name when the blue sparkled at Harry in at least four different shades. "I'd like to see it in glass."

Harry closed the book. "I'll send an invitation."

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between them, Pretty Blue Eyes kicking his ball around and Harry just watching him.

"Do you have some more time?" he suddenly asked then, turning back around to Harry.

"Nowhere else to be," Harry confirmed.

"I'll show you a few more tricks," Pretty Blue Eyes announced, immediately getting on with it.

Harry kept watching him, pulling out a pen again to bring some of the motion onto paper. He saw muscles move smoothly underneath thin fabric, drops of sweat drip to the floor, and keen, blue eyes look concentrated, focused on the ball.

He was pretty like that, Harry thought, leaning against the tree behind him. His hair was a mess, a thin rubber headband holding it out of Pretty Blue Eyes' face. He kept running his hands through it which made the strands stick out in all directions. Harry found it strangely attractive. It reminded him of how he had buried his hands in that hair, had messed it up, and had seen it completely dishevelled the morning after.

What a pity everything with this one had gone so wrong.

~*~

"Tommo."

Louis turned, pulling his t-shirt over his chest. He frowned when he saw Liam in his door frame. He was pale and his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his short hair soaked while he heavily leaned against Louis' doorframe.

With a mere three steps, Louis was by his side, hand against Liam's chest.

"Liam, what's wrong?"

"I feel awful," Liam choked out. "My stomach hurts and I-- my head."

Louis brought up his hand to touch Liam's forehead. "You've got a fever, love," he said gently.

"I can't," Liam protested, eyes glassy when he looked at Louis. "The game."

"Is not on for you today," Louis argued, sliding an arm around Liam's waist. "You'll have to stay in bed."

"But--"

"No protest." Louis led Liam down the corridor to his own room. "Lie down. Come on."

"Why today?" Liam whined, staring at the ceiling. "Why of all days today?"

"It's not an important game, Li," Louis calmed him, tugging the duvet up to Liam's chin. "Just a friendly match."

Liam didn't look convinced. "It's just..."

He fell silent and Louis tilted his head. "What?"

"Nothing," Liam said, still not looking at Louis. He blinked droopily, his eyes falling shut a second later.

"Get some sleep," Louis murmured, brushing a hand through Liam's hair.

It seemed Liam was out for the world, back to sleep that he desperately needed right now. Louis sighed slightly and stayed for another minute, then he quietly sneaked out of the room.

Jade stood in her doorframe across from Liam's room, frowning slightly. "Is he all right?"

Louis shook his head. "He’s asleep now. I gotta leave for the match."

"I'll look after him," Jade offered. "Gonna stay here all day to revise, anyway."

"Great," Louis breathed, going to hug her. "I'll make some tea before I leave."

She nodded, sending him off with a pat on his back. Louis rushed into the kitchen to make the tea, mind occupied with what Liam being sick meant for their team. He would have to take the position as the captain, would have to replace Liam.

Louis had done that before, but he really didn't like it. He never felt comfortable in the position of the team captain -- they had chosen Liam for a reason. The last time he had been captain, he had been very nervous throughout the game. Although nothing was exactly different being captain, it made Louis feel responsible, in charge and _i_ _mportant_.

Louis was not an important person.

It was only one game, though. Louis would get through that somehow.

~*~

There weren't many people in the stands around the football pitch. It was a relatively small venue, just a hundred seats on one side of the field, the players not yet in sight. Harry suspected they were in the building offside the pitch, getting changed and ready for the match.

"It's going to rain," Zayn pointed out. "We could have stayed at home, watching a film."

Harry sat down on one of the seats, overlooking the pitch and deciding that they had a good view from there. "We do that almost every Sunday, Zayn," he pointed out. "This makes for a nice change, doesn't it?"

"It's bloody boring," Zayn argued.

"It's our uni's team," Niall said, drinking from a bottle of beer he had brought. "It's our duty to support them."

"You haven't said that once before Harry brought up coming here." Zayn leaned back in his seat, a grumpy look on his face.

"Shut up, Zayn," Niall retorted -- not the most eloquent choice of words or argument.

"Maybe you'll like it," Harry suggested. "Or maybe you'll at least like watching a bunch of hot blokes exhausting themselves."

Zayn laughed now, tilting his head back. "At least one positive aspect to all this."

Harry smiled and turned his head when the players came onto the field. There was no big fuss made, it was just a short handshake between the players of both teams before they all split up to get to their positions.

Harry scanned the field for Liam, trying to find him among the other players. He kept an eye out for the yellow captain's armband, but couldn't find it immediately. Only when the players had all positioned themselves, did Harry spot it, perking up. The person wearing it was not Liam, though.

It was Pretty Blue Eyes, right there, jogging over to the field's centre to talk to the referee. He looked a bit nervous, worrying his lip while the referee explained something to him, but nevertheless he was stunning as ever.

Was this some kind of joke? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

As the game started, Harry fished his mobile out of his pocket, seeing that he had already an unread text from Liam.

_got knocked out by the flu. wont play today :(((( Im sorry_

Harry sighed, replying with a short get well wish before he put his mobile way again.

"Which team am I supporting?" Zayn asked from Harry's right.

"The ones in white." Harry kept his eyes trained on Pretty Blue Eyes. Apparently, he played midfield.

"It's no ManU level," Niall pointed out.

Harry didn't really listen to their bickering about the game, but instead followed Pretty Blue Eyes' every move. He had the number 28, but no name on his shirt. It was a pity. His pulse sped up a little when Pretty Blue Eyes received the ball, quickly turning around to move towards the goal.

Before he could pass the ball to one of his teammates, someone had taken it from him in one slick move.

Harry frowned, watching Pretty Blue Eyes frown himself and sprint after the ball again.

"The other team is much better," Niall commented after a good ten minutes. "Our team's pretty messed up, don't you think?"

Humming, Harry nodded his head, following the game unfolding on the pitch. He held his breath when the opposing team came close to the goal, one of their strikers making a goal from a fair distance.

"Shit," Niall spit out, shaking his head. "That was unnecessary. They could have prevented that."

Harry had to agree, seeing the stern look on Pretty Blue Eyes' face. He didn't seem happy, his team turning to him with questioning looks on their faces. He avoided most of them, pretending he didn't notice.

On his next chance to assist a goal shot, his pass got caught by an opposing player, a groan going through the audience. There weren't many people, but those who were there seemed disappointed and displeased.

"I really have no clue about footie," Zayn said when Pretty Blue Eyes had lost another one-on-one, "but even I can tell that their captain is no good."

Harry felt it well up in him -- a hot feeling, anger maybe, but definitely something that he couldn't _understand_ . Pretty Blue Eyes could do much, _much_ better than that. Harry had seen him play, had seen what he was capable of. For some odd reason none of it reflected in how he played on the field.

Frowning, Harry clasped his hands together, watching on as Pretty Blue Eyes missed another pass played to him. Niall groaned, Zayn was playing on his mobile phone. He only looked up again, when the whistle was blown loudly and a yellow card shown to one of the players of the opposite team.

Their uni's team got a penalty.

The attacked player was still crouching on the ground, clasping his foot. Pretty Blue Eyes was the one to position the ball, getting ready to kick. Harry could see from the distance between them that he had a nervous glint in his eyes, that his posture wasn't what it usually was.

There was no confidence at all in his stance.

"Hey! 28!" Harry yelled before the referee could give the sign for the kick-off.

He hadn't even realised he had jumped from his seat and had made it down to the railing separating the stands from the field. Pretty Blue Eyes turned, looking confused and then surprised when he spotted Harry.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Harry asked loudly, fingers gripping the railing tightly, his heart beating fast. "Get a grip! You're better than this. You're strong, and you're a bloody good player." He inhaled shakily, his voice still loud and clear, an angry tilt to it. "Fucking show it!"

Pretty Blue Eyes stared at him, eyes big, the blue clearly standing out, even though Harry was so far away. They kept staring at each other, and Harry didn't take in anything else but the way those eyes held his.

The whistle was blown and Pretty Blue Eyes looked away. His posture changed and he glanced from the ball to the goal.

The keeper didn't have a chance, the ball fast as lightening -- at least it seemed like that to Harry -- landing in the left corner of the net. The team broke into loud cheering, Pretty Blue Eyes got huddled into a big group hug and Harry punched one fist against the railing, letting go of his breath in a "Yes!"

When the game went on, Harry realised where he stood, Pretty Blue Eyes glancing over to him. Harry turned his head in all directions, finding people looking at him weirdly, giving him strange looks. He hurried back to Zayn and Niall, cheeks feeling hot.

"That's what this was about?" Zayn asked, tone incredulous. "You dragged us here because you've got a crush on one of the players?"

"No," Harry protested weakly. "Can we just leave?"

"You wanna leave now?" Niall asked. "It just got funny."

"It's really not funny. I have no idea what's got into me." Harry glanced around, still feeling that everyone was watching him.

Zayn got up. "Can't believe you dragged me here, just so you could ogle your new flame."

Harry followed him, throwing back glances to the field, seeing the game back in full gear. Pretty Blue Eyes had his back to them, focused on the ball.

Once they were outside, Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"So how do you know him?" Niall wanted to know, tone casual.

Harry couldn't let him know the whole story, could he? He swallowed, looking at Zayn who didn't seem too interested.

"We met a few times in the park," Harry said. "He practises there sometimes."

"You could have just said that you want to go to support him, you know," Niall pointed out, strolling down the street in front of Harry and Zayn.

"I didn't go there because of him," Harry defended himself. "It was all for--"

"For?" Zayn asked when Harry didn't continue.

"As I said, I didn't know," Harry simply repeated. "I had no idea he plays for the uni's team."

"Well, now everyone knows," Zayn pointed out with a shrug. "Quite the speech you gave there."

Harry only sighed, trying to block out Niall's and Zayn's teasing on their way home and wondering why he had gone to the game in the first place. Or why he hadn't just left when it had been clear that Liam wasn’t playing.

Would it all have ended up the same if Liam had played?

In any case, Liam owed him big time.  

~*~

"I'm so glad you still won," Liam sighed, coughing a little.

Louis handed him another mug filled with tea, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, the first half didn't go so well, but we got our game together in the second half."

"Was being captain okay for you this time?" Liam asked. His eyes were soft, a knowing glint in them. He knew that Louis wasn't comfortable being the team captain.

Professor Umbridge strolled over and jumped onto Louis’ lap with one galant move. "I guess I pulled myself together enough to make a decent job of it. In the end," he added as an afterthought.

For the rest of the first half, Louis hadn't even dared to glance up to the stands. He had been so afraid of seeing Harold looking still as angry, still as grumpy about Louis' performance. When he had finally brought himself to look up during half-time, Harold had been gone.

Wherever to he had come from in the first place.

Louis had no idea how Harold had suddenly ended up in the audience, on top of yelling at Louis for playing like shit. It was so embarrassing, Louis sincerely hoped Liam would never find out.

"Hey, about that boy," he said to distract Liam from talking about the game. "You know? The one you met when you picked up my phone. How is that going?"

Liam blushed a little. "Actually, he was at the match today," he confessed.

"He came down to cheer you on?" Louis cooed. "How nice."

"Yeah," Liam answered lamely, eyeing Professor Umbridge sceptically when she stretched on Louis’ lap and her paws touched Liam’s duvet. "I feel sorry that I couldn't be there. At least you guys showed that we're a good team, so maybe he wants to come and watch another one."

Louis simply nodded, wondering how Harold had probably ruined that for Liam. There had been a few people who had asked afterwards what that had been about and if they had more of those crazy fans.

“So when am I gonna meet that boy?” Louis winked at Liam. “I’ll put in some good words in his presence. Gonna tell some of the best stories about you.”

“Please don’t!” Liam groaned, looking horrified. “That’s why I never introduce you to the guys I’m dating.”

“Those guys just don’t have any humour, Li,” Louis argued. “They don’t get when I’m making fun of you.”

“You’re not supposed to make fun of me in the first place.”

Louis was about to answer, but looked up when the door opened and Leigh-Anne came into the room, a little out of breath. Professor Umbridge sat up in his lap.

"Louis, is it true?"

All colour drained from Louis' face -- he could actually feel it, his cheeks going a bit cold.

"What?" he and Liam asked at the same time.

Leigh-Anne gestured wildly with her hands. "I just met Aiden on my way home and he told me there was a crazy fan in the audience who yelled at Louis."

Liam looked at him with round eyes. "Someone yelled at you?"

Louis groaned, throwing Leigh-Anne a glare. "Nothing big, Li. It was nothing."

"He, like, leaned over the railing and told Louis to get a grip and show what he's capable of," Leigh-Anne told Liam. "Aiden said everyone in the audience was shocked!"

"Who was that?" Liam asked, looking a bit panicked.

"I don't know him too well, okay?" Louis explained, taking Professor Umbridge in his arms and getting up from the bed. "I met him once or twice when I practised in the park. I have no idea what's gotten into him."

"Your personal little cheerleader," Leigh-Anne cooed.

"That's not what he is," Louis snapped at her.

"Aiden said he's cute," she went on, ignoring Louis' words. "Maybe you should get to know him."

"I have a paper to finish." Louis glanced at Liam once more, saw the confused expression, but decided not to do anything about it. "I'll check on you later, Li."

With that he fled the room, dashing off to his own.

Of course he had already answered a ton of questions about Harold in the changing room earlier. Everyone had wanted to know who the guy had been that had pulled Louis' head out of his arse.

Truth was, Louis had played so much better after Harold's interference. Something in those eyes, something in the way he had looked at Louis, had moved a lever in Louis. He had felt much, much stronger after that, encouraged to show that Harold wasn't wrong, that Louis could really _do_ it.

In front of everyone else he had pretended to be relieved Harold had left so quickly.

If he was honest with himself, though, he was disappointed that Harold hadn't even seen Louis step it up a notch.

In a way, it had been for Harold, after all.

~*~

Harry rolled over on his bed when his mobile rang. He sighed and grabbed it off his bedside table, seeing Liam's name flash on the display.

"Hi," he answered, trying not to give all of it away in just one word.

"Hi," Liam greeted him back, sounding just as dull. "I'm sorry for making you go to the game today when I wasn't even there."

"No problem, mate," Harry answered. "I hope you're feeling a little better?"

"My flatmates are taking good care of me." Liam was quiet for a moment. "Listen, I heard what went down during the game today."

Harry blinked, wondering how exactly Liam had already found out that it had been him. "Um, you did?"

"About a crazy fan who shouted at one of the players during the game?" Liam laughed slightly. "That makes the round pretty fast, believe me."

"I didn't---"

"I just don't want you guys to think that it's always like that," Liam went on quickly, tone a little desperate. "Nothing like that usually happens."

Harry closed his eyes. So Liam didn't know it had been him. Well, but how long until he did know? Somehow it was going to come out, such things always did.

"Listen, Liam, truth is--"

"Please don't say Zayn won't give it a second chance. I know it may have looked a bit strange today and the team wasn't on their best, but I promise--"

"Liam," Harry interrupted and the other side of the line went silent. "Zayn knows that it usually doesn't go like that."

"He does?" Liam asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"Well, he knows that I'm usually not at your games, so..." Harry swallowed.

"You?" The confusion was even more prominent now. "I don't get it, Harry."

With a sigh, Harry sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I was the one who yelled, Liam. I kinda lost my nerve there for a moment."

"That was you?" Liam sounded genuinely surprised. " _You_ yelled at Louis?"

Louis, it echoed in Harry's head. Louis, Louis, _Louis_. His name was Louis, and it sounded so right, fitting perfectly for that witty mind and the sharp smile, for those pretty blue eyes.

"Harry?" Liam asked when Harry didn't react.

"Yes, that was me," Harry said, biting his lip. "Sorry."

"Looks like you kinda saved the game," Liam mused. "Louis says you sometimes watch him practise in the park."

"Sometimes," Harry agreed.

"Are you, like, friends?"

Harry released his breath in a small laugh. "No. I wouldn't say that."

Liam made a relieved noise. "Good. That's good."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"You can't tell him about Zayn," Liam instructed him. "Once he knows about that, he'll want to assist. And as soon as Louis interferes, things go wrong. I can't have anything go wrong with Zayn."

"All right." Harry decided not to point out that so far, nothing with Zayn had exactly gone right for Liam. "It's Niall's birthday next week," he added instead. "We're having a party. Why don't you come too?"

Liam hesitated for a second. "Should I bring Louis?"

"You can bring as many friends as you like," Harry replied. He was too deep into it to cut all ties and hide from Louis now. Harry would properly face him. "Niall knows so many people, the flat will be completely crowded anyway."

"Should we bring something?"

"Drinks." Harry played with a loose thread on his duvet. "And you should bring a strategy to chat up Zayn."

"Will do," Liam promised, laughing a little. It ended in a cough. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"It was Louis' phone, you know? The one that you found."

Harry blinked, trying to process that information. He remembered Liam's words from when they had first met. "Maybe fate played a trick on both of us."

Apparently, that was not too cryptic for Liam. "I can return the favour, if you want to. Play matchmaker for you and Louis."

Harry smiled to himself. "Thanks. Maybe I'll get back to you about that. For now I’m fine, though."

"Anytime," Liam offered. “Just say the word.”

~*~

Louis should have known Harold wouldn't just leave it at that.

When he came to his favourite spot in the park a few days after the match, Harold was already there. This time, he wasn't drawing, he didn't even have a bag with him, as it seemed. He was just leaning against one of the trees, hands crossed behind his back and his gaze glued to the ground.

"I wasn't sure if maybe this time you'd avoid me for real," Louis said instead of a greeting.

Harold looked up, eyes a little wide.

Louis approached him slowly, dropping his sports bag and the ball. "You've got balls."

"I'm really sorry," Harold said, worrying his lip. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You seemed really riled up," Louis commented.

"Just." Harold shrugged, lowering his gaze again. "I knew that you were better than what you'd shown."

Louis hummed. "You should have stayed to watch me prove it."

"I couldn't," Harold argued. "It was just as embarrassing for me. People were staring."

Burying his hands in his pockets, Louis rocked back on his heels. "I guess I get that." After all, Louis hadn't had a chance to just run away.

"I'm actually running late," Harold pointed out then. "Should have been home a while ago."

"Someone waiting for you?" Louis asked, not sure the intention behind the question was too obvious.

Harold looked at him with a strange expression. "No," he said then, shaking his head lightly. "It's my flatmate's birthday."

"Oh, well, better hurry then," Louis said, stepping back.

"I--" Harold seemed to hesitate, clearly wanting to say something else. "Again, sorry."

"Don't be," Louis said softly, smiling. "I take it as a compliment."

Harold closed the distance between them, expression much calmer now. "Take it as me being your number one fan."

It hit Louis, a strange pang in his chest, something sparkling and sputtering, running through his every nerve. He inhaled on a shaky breath, but before he could even say a word, Harold had leaned in, brushing his lips gently over Louis'.

Louis stood frozen, hands still in his pockets, the warm evening sun tingling at the back of his neck. He had his eyes open, his lips slightly parted, his breathing stopped. He heard birds sing, actual birds singing in the trees above them, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass and the heat of a late Indian Summer.

Harold drew back after only a second, cheeks rosy and smile shy.

"See you," he said quietly and quickly walked away.

Louis stood frozen for a few more minutes.

~*~

_You haven't told him about me??_

_I couldnt if i had i wouldve had t tell him about zayn 2._

_But he's coming to the party tomorrow?_

_can tell him then?_

_you should have told him already!!_

_not yet! hell make plans about zayn i cant have him interfer with that._

Harry stared at Liam's message for a moment, pondering his answer. Then he groaned and put his mobile away.

Maybe all of it could work out. Harry just didn’t see how.

~*~

"And how exactly do you know the guy?"

Liam rolled his eyes, pointing at a building to their right to signal Louis that it was where they were headed. "I told you I don't know the guy."

"So a stranger invited you to his birthday party?" Louis narrowed his eyes. "It's _that_ guy, right? The one you've been gone for lately?"

"Um, well, about that," Liam stuttered, looking a little uncertain.

"Ha, okay, let's get on with it!" Louis dashed forwards, ringing the bell. "You're gonna get laid tonight, Liam."

Liam gripped his arm, but whatever he said didn't make it through to Louis because in that moment Harold opened the door. Loud noises came from behind him, music and excited chatter. He wore a headband and tight skinny jeans, his shirt as always unbuttoned to his navel.

At least he looked just as surprised as Louis felt.

"Um, Louis," Liam said, letting go of Louis' arms. "That's Harry. But I guess you know him?"

Louis' stomach dropped. No, please no, he thought, a cold feeling weighing his arms down, making his legs feel heavy. Harold -- Harry -- couldn't be _that_ guy, the one Liam had met when he had picked up Louis' phone. The boy Liam was head over heels for.

His name was Harry. Louis had been pretty close. Harry with beautiful curls and lovely eyes and pink lips. Harry who had yelled at Louis from the stands during a football game, and who had said he was Louis' number one fan. Harry who had kissed Louis gently in the warm evening breeze only yesterday.

Louis couldn't do anything but stare at him.

"He found your phone," Liam said from next to Louis, but sounding so, so far away. Everything felt slowed down to Louis. "You can thank him in person now."

He didn't want to know. Harry was the bloody guy Liam had fallen in love with.

"Thank you," Louis said, and his voice sounded tinny in his own ears.

Harry looked a little taken aback, a careful expression on his face when he stepped back. "Why don't you guys come in first?"

Liam went ahead, and Louis followed him with heavy steps. Harry swayed close, his body close to Louis' when he lead them inside the living room that was packed with people. Louis tried to ignore that Harry had his head tilted towards Liam to listen to what he was saying and at the same time kept a hand on Louis' lower back, guiding him through the crowd.

"That's Niall," Harry said when they reached a corner. "The birthday boy."

"Happy birthday," Liam said, holding out his hand.

Niall, dirty blond hair and a big smile plastered to his face, leaned in and pulled Liam into a hug. "Thanks, mate." he let go, patting Liam's shoulder.

Liam looked very startled.

"Happy belated birthday," Louis said then to shift Niall's attention away from Liam.

"Someone did their research," Niall commented, hugging Louis too. When he pulled back, he glanced at Harry. "You guys are friends of Harry's?"

Liam nodded. "Kinda, yeah."

“You’re playing the footie, right?” Niall asked Louis. “Been to the game with Harry. We had to leave a bit early…”

Louis laughed, glancing at Harry. “I guess I didn’t leave a good impression.”

“Mate, Harry’s the one who didn’t leave a great impression on anyone there.” Niall slung an arm around Harry’s waist. “Proper embarrassment.”

Harry blushed, looking from Niall to Louis.

“I like passionate fans,” Louis simply stated.

"Great, Wicked!" Niall handed Liam a bottle. "Pour yourselves a drink, lads. Talk to you later, yeah?"

With that he turned to the next group standing by to greet him. Louis felt overwhelmed, as though he had been hit by a barrel.

"We have other drinks in the kitchen," Harry offered, pointing at a door on the other side of the room.

"Could you get us something, Lou?" Liam asked.

Louis glanced at Harry, reluctant to leave them alone. He didn't have much of a choice, though. How was he going to put up a fight anyway? _Sorry, Liam, I had my eyes set on him for a while now. I didn't even know his name until a few minutes ago, but you just can't have him ._

No, that probably wasn't enough. Louis didn't stand a chance.

"Sure," he said instead, nodding briefly.

"I can show you--"

"Harry, why don't you introduce me to your other friends, too?" Liam cut in, tone sweet. Sweet didn't suit him, Louis decided, almost pointing it out.

He bit his tongue.

"Yes, of course," Harry answered after a beat, turning away from Louis.

Liam gave Louis a thumbs-up behind Harry's back and Louis forced himself to at least smile back before he fled into the kitchen. He pushed through a few people who mostly gave him annoyed glances.

The kitchen was much less crowded, only a few groups standing around, none of them even taking notice of Louis. He took a deep breath and inspected the selection of alcohol on the table.

Maybe if he drank a glass of each bottle, he would survive this evening.

He jumped slightly when someone touched his shoulder and tuned to a guy his age, black hair and dark eyes, smooth skin and a carefully trimmed beard.

"You just came with Liam, didn't you?" he asked, voice hushed.

Louis nodded. "Um, yeah?"

"Does he know I'm here?" He looked around, as if he was afraid Liam would come into the room any second.

"I don't know," Louis said, frowning. "Depends on who you are?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," the bloke answered. "I'm Zayn. I live here."

"Well, in that case, he would at least expect you to be here, I guess?" Louis pointed out, filling a paper cup with white wine from an open bottle. He had the feeling he would need it.

"Fuck," Zayn just commented.

Louis put down his cup. "You got a problem with him?"

Zayn blinked, shaking his head quickly. "He, like, talked to me a few times, but I never know what to say."

For a moment, Louis processed that. He picked up his cup again to down the information properly, let it sink in. "Do you have a crush on him?"

"He's pretty cool," Zayn answered, shrugging and actually pouting a bit.

"He's really not," Louis mumbled with a snort. "Also, he's here for Harry," he added then, a bit louder.

Zayn frowned. "Aren't _you_ here for Harry?"

Louis raised a brow.

"I mean," Zayn went on, "he practically dragged us to your game the other day."

"Oh, that," Louis said. "I think he actually came to see Liam, but he got sick shortly before the match and couldn't play."

"You mean, those two..." Zayn's voice died mid sentence, as if he couldn't even voice it.

Louis shrugged. "Looks like it."

"Oh." Zayn looked genuinely surprised.

Sighing, Louis filled another cup with wine and handed it over to Zayn. "Have a drink."

It felt nice, somehow, to have someone to share the pain with.

~*~

Harry should have known that looking for Zayn would end in finding him where Louis was.

Apparently, today was not exactly his lucky day. When he entered the kitchen with Liam in tow, Zayn and Louis sat by the table, both giggling over their plastic cups.

"Oh no," Liam hissed next to him. "And there goes my fantasy of ever getting with Zayn Malik. He probably told him about the pasta incident already."

“The pasta incident?” Harry repeated.

“Embarrassing stories about me, basically,” Liam clarified.

Harry shrugged. "At least they seem to get along."

"You'll have to distract Louis," Liam plotted. "And I'll have to save whatever there is to save."

Nodding, Harry followed Liam over to the table. He was actually on board with that plan, because it assured him some alone time with Louis, which Harry really needed to set some things straight between them.

"Here they are," Louis said when he noticed them.

"Liam, that's my other flatmate," Harry introduced them, as if that wasn't the sole reason Liam had shown up for. "Zayn."

"We met before," Zayn said coolly.

Liam's beam was brighter than a tree on Christmas Eve.

"Um," Harry said, eloquently as ever. "Louis?"

It was strange saying that name for the first time. It rolled off nicely Harry's tongue.

Louis turned, looking at him expectantly. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a minute?"

Something changed in Louis' expression, and Harry was afraid that he would say no, but then he got up wordlessly and refilled his cup.

"See you later," Louis said with a wink in Zayn's direction, raising his plastic cup.

"You seem to have bonded with Zayn rather quickly," Harry commented when Louis followed him out of the kitchen.

"Guess it comes with sharing a similar fate," Louis said.

Harry reached out for him, gripping Louis wrist so he wouldn't lose him in the crowd. He assumed his room was packed with people, too, so he led Louis out the front door.

"Better," he commented once the door was closed and they were alone.

"So," Louis said, rubbing his hands. Harry wondered if he was cold. He could go and get Louis a jumper -- he would certainly look cute in one of Harry's jumpers. "You found my phone."

Harry nodded. "Strange coincidence, isn't it?," he replied while a voice inside his head chanted _fate, fate, fate_!

"Yeah, maybe," Louis agreed, shuffling his feet a little.

Harry sat down on the steps leading to the door, stretching out his legs. "Never thought it would play out like this, after, you know."

"We had a one-night stand?" Louis supplied, sitting down next to him. He sat his cup on one of the steps, still filled to the brim. "No, that's not how my one-night stands usually play out."

Harry swallowed, not sure how to answer.

"How is it going with the glass?" Louis asked instead, and Harry was grateful for the distraction. He had no idea how to cut to the point.

"Good," he mumbled, tapping his knees with his fingers. "Much better, actually. I think I finally got a proper hang of it."

Louis hummed, arms slung around his knees. "Maybe I'll come to the exhibition."

"You'll get a personal invitation," Harry promised.

"Facebook doesn't count," Louis warned him, and laughed at that himself.

Silence stretched between them, the only noises heard coming from inside and from the cars driving by every now and then.

"How long did you know about me? I mean," Louis added, "that I'm friends with Liam, and that it was my phone you found."

Harry bit his lip. "A few days."

"Hm," Louis mused. "Does Liam know anything at all?"

"Just that I met you in the park," Harry admitted. "And that I was the crazy person yelling at you during the game."

Louis grinned at that. "Thought so," he mumbled.

"Hey," Harry said, touching Louis arm to make him turn his head and look at Harry. "I'm glad I got to meet you again and that you didn't just stay a nameless one-night stand."

Louis gasped in mock-offence. "What do you mean? You didn't even know my name when you slept with me?"

Harry grinned, leaving his hand on Louis' arm. "I called you Pretty Blue Eyes in my head."

For a moment, something flashed over Louis' face, but Harry couldn't read it before it melted into something soft. Louis just stared at Harry, his gaze gentle and full of warmth. Harry held it when he leaned in, not breaking their eye contact.

Until Louis lowered his head and bit his bottom lip.

Harry stared at the thick lashes throwing shadows over Louis's cheekbones, the bridge of his nose sprinkled with just a hint of freckles, and tried to take the rejection with grace.

"Did you go to the match to see Liam?" Louis asked suddenly, not raising his face.

Harry had no idea where that question came from. Maybe Louis thought Harry had stalked him -- that it was the reason he had suddenly shown up in the park, too. With the way Harry had yelled at Louis at the game, it probably wasn't too far-fetched.

"Yes," he answered, fingers still curled around Louis' arm. He couldn't mention Zayn yet; he had promised Liam he wouldn't.

Louis nodded, sitting still for another moment. Then he got up and straightened out the black t-shirt he wore, suddenly very interested in the material. "I guess we should go back inside."

Harry's heart sank, because this was definitely a rejection. "Aren't you---"

"Liam's probably already looking for me," Louis declared, approaching the door.

Harry gazed after him for a moment, trying to grasp what had just happened. When Louis was out of sight, he angled his knees and pressed his face between them, taking deep breaths.

Everything had looked more than promising yesterday when he had kissed Louis in the park. Harry had no idea what had changed since then.

He thought he had made his intentions clear -- but maybe nothing was clear, at all.

~*~

Louis needed another drink. Desperately.

How was he supposed to handle this? Every fibre of his body screamed to get back out there and kiss Harry, get some more of that sweet taste from yesterday. Yet, he couldn't do it, couldn't possibly do that  _ to Liam _ .

He had been so happy, ecstatic even, when he had met Harry the first time. Louis couldn't be the one ruining that for Liam.

"Oh, hey, mate," Niall called him over with a wave of his hand. "Care to join us?"

Louis looked at the round of shot glasses on the table, making his decision in a fraction of a second. "Absolutely," he answered, taking a seat next to Niall on the sofa.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier," Niall admitted when he handed Louis a shot glass.

Louis emptied it before anyone had said the word go. "Louis."

Niall laughed, taking the bottle to refill Louis' glass. "Good lad. Have another one."

Louis played drinking games with them for a while -- he lost count of the shots, lost count of the number of people around him, and the faces he was talking to. Niall kept patting his back occasionally, always making sure Louis' glass was refilled.

"I guess I need a glass of water," he said after a while, standing up. That proved to be a difficult task in itself, and Louis gripped Niall's shoulder, balancing himself.

"You okay, mate?" Niall asked, standing up with him.

"Yeah, it's okay." Louis waved him off. "I'll be back in a minute."

On his way to the kitchen, he spotted Liam and Harry in a corner, both holding drinks, faces closely bent together. Liam looked a bit too serious to be flirting, and Harry worried his lip. He looked down, nodding to something Liam said into his ear.

When he raised his head again, his gaze fell onto Louis.

He would have moved, Louis really would have moved away, but he felt frozen to the spot. He could only stare at Harry when he just so much as touched Liam's arm before he came over.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly.

No, Louis was not okay, because he wanted to lunge forwards into Harry's arms and burrow himself against that chest, in Harry's warmth. Beautiful Harry, lovely Harry looking concerned about Louis. He would certainly embrace Louis and kiss his forehead, maybe.

Louis liked his forehead being kissed.

"Harold," Louis said, choking on the name. He shook his head, running a hand over his face. "Harry."

"I think you should--"

"Go, yes," Louis finished the sentence for him.

Harry blinked, looking confused.

"I should really go."

Forcing himself to look away, Louis turned and walked out of the room. There was a tingle in his lower back, just right at the bottom of his spine -- as if it was fear of Harry following him.

If Harry was going to follow him now, Louis wouldn't be able to guarantee that he could hold himself back.

His feet kept moving, always forwards, over the black asphalt and towards a hollow space, carrying him away from the noises and faces. Fear was driving him to speed up his steps, to run away from Harry, from the ghost feeling of a hand on his back, and green eyes intently looking into his own.

Only when he reached home did Louis realise that Harry hadn't followed him.

~*~

Sleeping hadn't been easy.

Louis had tried, but when he had closed his eyes, everything had started spinning, making him feel as though he was in a plane flying loops.  Loop de loop .

Apart from that, Harry's ring had still been lying on Louis' bedside table, glaring at him. He had forgotten about it, hadn't even taken notice of it in amongst all the stuff in his room. But when he had lain down earlier, it had felt as though it was the only item in the room and it kept screaming  _ Harry Harry Harry _ at Louis.

He was sipping from a bottle of water now, sitting in the living room, the telly on mute. Only the artificial blue light of the screen illuminated the room.

"Lou?"

He looked up, seeing Liam standing in the door frame.

"Already back from the party?" Louis asked, trying to come across as casual and calm. He checked his watch. "It's only four, Liam."

"Why did you go home?" Liam wanted to know, ignoring Louis' question.

Louis shrugged, shifting his attention back to the telly. "Wasn't my kind of crowd."

"You didn't leave because of Harry, did you?"

Breathing suddenly became very difficult. Louis blinked a few times, trying to will the stinging pain behind his lids away. When he looked at Liam again, he saw the worried expression on his face, a hint of desperation.

"I'm sorry, Li," Louis blurted out. "I didn't know it was him, okay? I'm not gonna get in your way. I know how much---"

"The fuck, Tommo?" Liam raised his voice, finally coming into the room. " _ Harry ? _ "

"What?" Louis blinked, not sure what Liam was on about.

"You think I'm in love with  _ Harry _ ?!" Liam threw his hands up, groaning. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Excuse me?" Louis frowned, sitting up straight. "You told me he was the answer to all your prayers, the stars aligning perfectly for you, or whatever shit it was."

"Because he lives with Zayn, Louis," Liam groaned.

"With..." Louis fell silent, trying to process that. If it had been about Zayn, then that meant that-- he looked up again, eyes going dry, but he couldn't even blink.

"Harry helped me getting to know Zayn, that's why I spent so much time with him." Liam kicked out his foot, not very gently shoving Louis' feet from the sofa to sit down next to him. "I asked him to bring Zayn to the game, that's why he was there in the first place."

Louis' heart stumbled in his chest, stuttered like an old engine, slowly spurting back to life. "You mean he's not into you?"

"You utter idiot." Liam nudged his shoulder, sighing. "He's all sad, thinking you're not interested."

"What?" Louis gasped. " _ What _ ?"

"Why exactly are you still sitting here?"

Louis looked up, seeing Zayn standing by the door, his arms crossed and his face scrunched up in disapproval.

"Go and fix it," Liam added.

"Why is Zayn here?" Louis asked instead.

"My flat's a bit packed right now," Zayn pointed out. "Not exactly a place to have some privacy."

Louis turned back to Liam, raising a brow. "If that story about Harry is a lie to get rid of me, so you guys can--"

"Bloody hell, Tommo," Liam hissed. "Would I lie about that? Get off your arse and do something about it."

Louis took a deep breath, then he nodded and dived in to hug Liam.

"Gonna get it right," he promised quietly.

Liam nodded, patting Louis' back. "I'm sure you will."

~*~

Harry tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He was tired, feeling exhausted and drained. With a sigh, he let his hands drop in his lap.

It had never happened to him before. He had never read all the signs wrong. Things with Louis hadn't gone as usual, though. The whole affair with Louis had been pretty messed up from the very beginning.

Harry had no idea what he could do to change Louis' mind.

Hearing a noise, a twig breaking maybe, Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head. The sky was cloudy, the corner of the park filled with dark shadows of the huge trees, so all he could make out was a silhouette.

"Should've known you'd be here."

It was Louis' voice, startling Harry a bit, so he straightened, sitting up. Coming closer, his features became clearer, and Harry could make out his arms, his hair, then his face, until Louis was right next to him.

"I went back to your flat, but Niall said you had gone out." Louis sat down next to him, leaving some space between them.

"Just needed a quiet place," Harry said softly, looking at his hands. "To think."

"I can go and leave you to your thoughts," Louis offered.

Harry smiled at that, thinking of how he had met Louis for the first time here. "It's okay. I'll just sit here if it's fine with you."

Louis shifted a little closer, silence stretching between them.

"Liam brought Zayn home."

"I know," Harry answered. "I kinda set them up, after all."

"I--" Louis' voice broke a bit before he resumed. "I thought you and Liam were like, you know, maybe?"

Harry lifted his head, frowning. "Why would I have kissed you, then?"

Louis shrugged, still not looking at Harry. "I got that you're interested. I just didn't want to get in Liam's way."

"Are you joking?" Harry blurted out.

"Other people would say I'm noble, you know," Louis said, cheekiness returning to his voice. Harry liked that development. "Instead of making me out to be a fool."

"You are a fool, Louis," Harry corrected him. "And it was noble of you to defer to Liam, but you could have just talked to either of us."

"I didn't even know your name until tonight," Louis pointed out.

Harry chuckled, couldn't help it. He sighed again, feeling a lot lighter now, though.

"I've got something to return to you, too," Louis said then, holding out his palm.

Harry looked at the ring, pursing his lips. "I’ve been wondering where I lost it," he said.

"In my bed, actually." Louis held his hand closer, gesturing for Harry to take the ring.

Harry took a moment longer, then he brought up his hands and closed them and Louis', curling Louis' finger over the ring.

"Why don't you keep it?"

It was astonishing how clear and bright Louis' eyes shone even at night. Harry kept his hand over Louis', counting the heartbeats until Louis leaned in to kiss him. He tasted sweet, his lips dry and soft against Harry's. They moved slowly, opening up Harry's mouth for his tongue, the slide of their tongues languid and lazy, their breath mingling between them.

"I don't really wear rings," Louis murmured when he drew back.

Harry leaned his forehead against Louis', still holding Louis' hand between his, the ring securely tucked into Louis' fist.

"You don't have to," he answered.

Louis smiled gently, pecking Harry's lips once more.

"I'll keep it," he announced with a whisper that was almost swallowed by the shadows and the rustling of the wind in the trees above their heads. He brought up his other hand, running his fingertips over Harry's knuckles.

Harry smiled, opening one hand to lace his fingers with Louis'.

"I'll keep you in return."

~*~

Louis woke up alone in Harry's bed. The sun was tickling his cheeks, spilling over the naked skin of his back. Running a hand through his hair, he rolled out of bed, grabbing his pants off the floor.

He found Harry in the kitchen, dressed in boxer shorts and an apron tied around his torso.

"Hey," Louis said quietly, slinging his arms around Harry's chest from behind.

Harry leaned into it, stirring something in the pan on the cooker. "Morning," he greeted Louis, bringing one hand up to touch Louis' cheek. "Sleep well?"

Louis nodded, leaning his temple against Harry's shoulder. His body was pliant and sated -- a different kind of sated, because now that he smelled the food, he realised how hungry he was.

"I'm starving."

Turning, Harry framed Louis' face, pulling him into a light kiss. "Niall's in the living room, watching cartoons. How about you join him and I'll finish making breakfast."

"I could help you," Louis offered. "Cut things, or like, get the plates out?"

Harry grinned, pressing a kiss to Louis' temple. "I'm almost done."

Louis nodded and stole one more kiss before he left the kitchen to find Niall in the living room.

"Hey, Louis, mate," Niall greeted him, patting the sofa cushion next to him. "I didn't know you stayed here?"

Louis shrugged, playing with the ring around his left middle finger. Until he'd figured out how to keep it, he had decided that it was safest to just wear the ring. He definitely couldn't lose it that way. His bum ached a little when he sat down next to Niall, reminding him of Harry spreading him out and having his way with Louis last night.

"How did you and Harry meet anyway?" Niall wanted to know, eyes glued to the telly, an episode of Batman airing.

Louis pondered for a moment, then he decided to just go with it. "I guess we're a one-night stand that turned into something great."

Niall's head snapped around and he frowned. "You guys had a one-night stand?"

"A while ago," Louis admitted.

"Interesting," Niall purred, practically purred. "Very  _ interesting _ ."

At that moment, noises came from the corridor, and then Liam and Zayn piled into the room, fingers intertwined and eyes looking tired. Yet, both had rosy cheeks and dopey smiles on their faces.

"Why are you guys back so early?" Niall asked.

"I guessed that Harry would be in a good enough spirits to make a full breakfast," Zayn explained. "And it seems I was right."

Louis looked at Liam and they exchanged a quick grin. Liam shifted closer to Zayn and the way Zayn slung his arm around Liam's waist seemed natural, easy.

"By the way, you owe me ten quid," Niall threw in, pointing at Zayn.

Zayn frowned. "Why’s that?"

"Because I'm always right," Niall announced, making a victory pose.

Louis was about to ask what that was about, but then Harry came in, calling them for breakfast. The other three boys dashed off into the kitchen, and Harry stayed at the door with a satisfied smile, waiting for Louis.

"Hey, Harold," Louis asked, his hand falling easily into Harry's. "Why is it so interesting to Niall that we had a one-night stand before?"

Harry looked a little confused, then he broke into laughter.

"What?" Louis wanted to know, frowning.

"It's just--" Harry bit his lip to hold back another fit of laughter. Then he leaned in and kissed Louis again, nodding to himself as if he had proven a theory.

Louis tilted his head, hand warm in Harry’s, waiting for his explanation.

"I guess I really don't have one-night stands."

~*FIN*~

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


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